painting flowers
by Last Girl Standing
Summary: if nothing is true, what can i do? i am still painting flowers for you. ― dominique pressed her fingers into the engagement ring. how long could she wear it? how long could she mourn? dauntless competition.


**title:** painting flowers

**competition**: dauntless competition ; round one ; part three [fighting] ; represent that character

**characters**: dominique ; assorted others

**pairing**: past dom/lysander

**summary**: if nothing is true, what can i do? i am still painting flowers for you. ― dominique pressed her fingers into the engagement ring. how long could she wear it? how long could she mourn? dauntless competition.

**notes**: i don't even ship domly what the flying fuck

* * *

i.

outside the little coastline cottage, the rain poured down.

dominique was curled up in the bathroom, knees pulled to her chest. the muggle timer next to her ticks, tick tock tick tock, and she presses her fingers to her engagement ring, hard enough to leave dents in the pads of her fingers. she wondered, numbly, if it was pathetic to wear an engagement ring to a guy who died; and if not, how long she could wear it in morning before it was unacceptable.

she didn't care, really. she'd wear it as long as she could.

three minutes. why did they make pregnancy tests take so long? the anticipation thrumming through dominique's veins was making her antsy. her stomach curled, and it was enough to make her want to puke. again.

she couldn't be a mother. her first book was just published. she was nearly officially a potions mistress. she didn't have a motherly bone in her body.

lysander had just died.

two minutes. merlin, she couldn't do this. what if she hurt them? what would everyone else say?

dominique breathed heavily, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the tile. she was almost ashamed to say it, but she couldn't deal with another reminder that he was gone. the house was bad enough.

they'd bought it together, two years out of hogwarts, pinching pennies and getting deals. the cottage had been owned by a family friend, small, old and run down. they'd spent two months fixing it up together, occasionally consulting grandma molly and victoire, although victoire had been fairly busy for most of it, the bubblegum haired witch almost done with her healer training.

one minute. oh god, she was going to puke.

she was planning on finding somewhere else. sell some things. the things that made her heart hurt, made a weight lay on her chest.

what if she was pregnant? what if the baby looked like him?

twenty seconds. she's going to see one line, not two.

ten seconds. she'll go to st. mungo's and find out she has the flu or something. it's the end of january.

five.

four.

three.

two.

one.

dominique slams her hand down on the timer, looking at the three tests.

two lines.

two lines.

two lines.

dominique throws the tests out, buries her face in her arms, and sobs, letting them echo through an empty house.

ii.

she goes to st. mungo's on valentines day. they confirm that she's seven weeks along, that there's a baby growing in her womb. "congratulations!" the healer says, wide smiles as she gives dominique an ultrasound.

her baby's so tiny.

it's no wonder she gets victoire popping through the floo that night, pink hair still in a bun but bomber jacket not on.

"dom!" she shouts, as dominique pokes her head out, cradling an arm around her bowl of ambrosia.

"hi," dominique mumbles, swallowing.

"are you _pregnant?"_

"nice to see you too," dominique says blandly, scooping up some more.

"dominique!"

"yes!" she blurts, and oh god those better not be tears springing up in her eyes.

"is it-" victoire stops uncomfortably, unsure how to word what she was saying or deal with the sister that nearly never cried. "is it lysander's?"

"what's _that_ supposed to mean? of course it is!"

"well, i mean, you were in grieving, and he was gone on an auror trip before he died -"

"if you're going to insinuate what i think you are," dominique says icily. "then you can get out."

"have you told mama and dad?"

"i will, soon," dominique tells her. "this weekend. i promise."

"you better," victoire tells her, then crosses the room briskly. she wraps her arms around dominique in a rare hug, taking the redhead off guard, returning the hug awkwardly. "if you need anything, i'm just a floo away."

"i'll take you up on that," dominique informs her as victoire lets go. "see you on sunday."

"see you then," victoire repeats, then disappears through the floo, leaving victoire all on her own.

iii.

sunday dinner at grandma molly's goes exactly how she plans it would.

dominique wears something that is a little clingy to her but but loose around the stomach, ample bust complimented. she dresses nice but not too nice, and in the back you can see some of the petals of the watercolor flowers she got to commemorate lysander's death.

[he always brought her flowers, they had lit up the drafty home and since he was gone so often he felt the need to apologize in his own little ways. she's always claimed they were lame but the wedding dress she bought the day before she got the news had little flowers all through it.]

victoire spends all dinner shooting her questioning looks. "so, dom," vic starts casually. "anything new?"

"yeah, how's your book coming along?" lucy chimes in from where lily was glaring at her.

"well, i'm halfway through the sequel," she says, receiving the congratulations as she should. "oh, and i'm eight weeks pregnant."

mama drops her glass. daddy chokes on his whiskey. louis looks like he just got hit by a truck. the rest of the room goes dead silent.

"you're _what?_" daddy blurts out, as molly junior goes, "i knew it'd be you! is it even lysander's?"

"what's that supposed to mean?" dominique bites back.

"you always were kind of a slut, how do we know you didn't go crawling to the first dick you could after he was gone-"

"shut up, molly!"

"of course you'd defend her, you're the same way, lucy-"

"guys, stop!"

"stay out of this!" both sisters shout at albus, who steps back.

"_enough!"_ grandma molly slams a wooden spoon on the table, and in the commotion, dominique has slipped mama and daddy into the living room.

"pregnant," daddy repeats, faintly.

"it's lysander's," dominique says, and ignores the frown mama gives her. they never truly liked lysander, saw too much of his headstrong brother in the set of his jaw or the green of his eyes, and didn't want to see if the quieter one was the same.

they spend the next few hours speaking and at the end of the night, dominique goes home to an empty house.

iv.

they take turns staying with her. grandma, mama, victoire, lucy, lily, louis, al. she calls in victoire's favor, so when she takes her baby home it'll be to a cottage in canada, and now that she's finished her potions mastery, she's arranged to take over from the elderly potions master up in north america's school for magic.

her baby - a girl, a girl, she's having a baby girl - has portraits all over her room; painted flowers and animals and clouds.

dominique's room has a vase on the nightstand and about forty pictures.

v.

when her daughter, solaris, is a week old, she takes her home.

she spends the night rocking her baby to sleep, singing softly and cradling her daughter, otherwise alone in an empty house.

she's still wearing his ring.


End file.
